


Polaris

by yourbeautysfading



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-04
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-11 17:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2076543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourbeautysfading/pseuds/yourbeautysfading
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel get high and give each other tattoos in a flashback. Written from Castiel's point of view. It was inspired by a post on Tumblr with endverse fluff that I can no longer find and  this picture: http://o.aolcdn.com/hss/storage/fss/531f93e435e88bbf88cf741448299e21 .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaris

When things first started going downhill, when I became like him, Dean had called me a hippie for smoking or engaging in the recreational use of hallucinogenics. I told him he was clearly a hypocrite because, while he may not engage in those activities on a regular basis, he had definitely engaged in them in the past and would still if the offer came about. After that, I always offered. And one night, upon return from a particularly bad mission, Dean pushed aside the beads to my cabin and took my offer. His labeling soon stopped, and his visits to the cabin became more frequent. It wasn’t always to get high, though; sometimes he just came in there to get away from the others in the camp. Sometimes it was to talk, but more often than not, it was a place of safety. Of security. Dean would come into my cabin and lie down beside me as I smoked or read, his head in my lap and my fingers sifting through his hair. We wouldn’t talk then, and it was never mentioned. Nothing in the cabin was ever mentioned, especially not the first time his lips met mine or the first time we slept together. Everyone knew, though. It was the most poorly kept secret of the camp.

_“You know, Dean,” I started one night, breaking the silence that had fallen over the cabin for the past hour. He was curled on the floor, using my thigh as a pillow. I had been smoking; Dean had continued to lie there, not saying a word. He had started to fall asleep, but my voice caused him to stir and turn his head just enough to look at me. “You’re different from the others. You have stardust in you, and no one can convince me that you weren’t supposed to remain in the sky.” Dean scoffed quietly, settling back into his former position. “A star fell the night you were born. I know. I was there. I saw. I’ve watched over you for a long time, Dean Winchester.”_

_“Yeah, right, Cas. I’m not a starchild or a flowerchild or any of that shit.” His eyes closed once more. “Take another hit and be quiet. I’m trying to sleep.”_

_“I’m going to call you Polaris.”_

I didn’t mean to verbalize my beliefs, but he thought it was just the ramblings and nickname of a man who was already so high he could touch the Milky Way. Maybe he was right, but I still saw remnants of that light within him. I still remembered watching my favorite star make its way to the earth, then hearing the news that _Dean Winchester_ was born. I still remembered, years later, making my way to the North Star when I was seeking guidance, direction. It was while there that I received the command to raise Dean from perdition. Dean Winchester, my favorite star, the man I had been watching over for so long. I said nothing more, just buried my fingertips in his hair, and soon he was asleep. The nickname stuck, always receiving a scowl and a grumbled response, but he always answered. The rest of the conversation never happened in his mind.

We had just finished smoking one night when Dean mentioned wanting a tattoo. I laughed. This had to be the musings of his mind while on another level; sober Dean would never want another tattoo. Not here, not now. Maybe in a different lifetime. “What’s so funny, Cas?” he asked, brow furrowed and head tipped a bit to one side. “I want a tattoo dammit, so give me one.”

“Polaris, I already gave you one,” I mused, placing my hand over where I knew the scar was. “When I raised you from perdition, I left a mark. Isn’t that like a tattoo?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Dean frowned at me. “I want another _real_ tattoo. And you’re choosing what it is… And then I’m giving you one.” This was a big decision; it was leaving a mark on him that would last the rest of his life. In the scheme of things, though, the decision wasn’t really that major. After a bit more insistence, I gave in, mainly because I was curious what Dean would give me. I was surprised when he pulled out a tattoo gun and inks. He showed me how to use it, and then he let me decide where to put it. I wasn’t used to having this much power over something, even something so small, in a long time, especially when Dean was concerned. I studied him, then told him to take off his shirt and turn his back to me. I was going to leave it on his right shoulder. He did as I asked, and I smoothed my hand over the expanse of skin, leaning forward to kiss his shoulder before beginning. I was glad I had taken up drawing as a hobby. It meant that his tattoo wouldn’t be absolutely horrible; I would never want to leave a pathetic excuse of a drawing on him. I wasn’t worried about what he might give me; Dean could draw with the best of them. He was good at everything he tried. The first time the gun made contact with his skin startled me, but I pressed on. I became more comfortable before long and focused as best I could on the task at hand. I had an image in my mind of what I wanted to draw, and I was able to focus on that. It took a while, but finally I sat back and inspected my work.

Dean stood and walked over to my mirror. He studied the tattoo I’d given him, then looked over at me with a brow arched. It was a compass rose, a single black feather curved around the lower right side. “Why this?”

“So you can find your way home again,” I responded. “And so you’ll always have me with you, even when I’m not around.” Dean looked away from me, moving to where his shirt was crumpled on the floor and putting it on.

“Wherever you are, Cas, that’s my home.” The words made me smile, though it didn’t last long. I knew what he was thinking but not verbalizing. His home was also with Sam, and without the both of us being there, Dean would never be truly home. But he had chosen this path; he’d told Sam they were stronger apart, that they were only used against each other when they were together. He ignored Sam’s pleas to return, had stopped answering his phone calls. And then one day, the calls had stopped coming. I had tried so long to get him to contact his brother, to find him before it was too late, and I opened my mouth to say something now. “No,” Dean said. “Don’t even think about it.” He always knew when I was going to reprimand him. I sighed. “Just take your shirt off and get comfortable. You’re going to be in the same position for a while.”

I did as he instructed, eventually lying on my stomach on the floor, arms crossed under my head. “What are you going to give me?” I asked curiously. I received no answer. My eyes closed as the needles touched my skin, and the soft hum lulled me to sleep. Dean stopped halfway through to pack and share a bowl, but he didn’t let me get up. He said it would screw up his work if I moved. Instead, we shotgunned the hits, him leaning down and meeting my lips, exhaling the smoke into my mouth. The tattoo took a few hours. Finally, though, he spoke. “Tell me what you think.” I moved off the floor with a groan and made my way over to the mirror. Turning around, I looked over my shoulder. He had inked a pair of black wings onto my back, shadowed perfectly.

“Dean.”

“One day, Cas, I’m gonna get your wings back.” I focused on him again, but he was looking at the floor. “I don’t know how, but I’m going to make things right. Til then, this is the best I can do… Good night, Cas.” And just like that, he was gone. Normally no one went to Dean’s cabin. I never obeyed that rule. A little while after he left, I followed, entering the cabin quietly and walking to his bedroom. I could hear him talking even before I approached. “I’m here you son of a bitch! I know you’re listening to me. And I’m saying yes. I’ll do what you want. I’ll be Michael’s vessel. I just… Yes. I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face. I—"

“It’s too late for that, Dean,” I said quietly. It wasn’t the first time I had caught him praying, but it seemed more insistent this time. His back was turned to me as he looked out the window, but I could see the slight shaking of his shoulders. “Zachariah isn’t there. No one’s there anymore. They’re all gone.” He didn’t move. “They’re all like me now.” Sometimes I thought I heard it, the “angel radio” as he called it. But then I remembered there were no angels. Our father left us. All we had was each other, and he had me believing that that was enough. I just wished I could have made him believe it, too.

_“Dammit, Cas. What took you so long? This isn’t the time to play games. The fucking Apocalypse is going on outside. We have people counting on us, but you take your own sweet time coming to help me. I—"_

_“Dean.”_

_“What?”_

_“I’m not an angel anymore. My powers… they’re gone. I’m mortal. Just like you.”_

I still remembered the look on his face when he first found out the truth. _“Well, isn’t that just fucking perfect?”_

 _I’m sorry, Dean._ He had stormed out of the room that day, slamming the door behind him. I knew I’d let him down. Even though years since then, since the start of all of this, had gone by, I still let him down. I didn’t have the answers he wanted. I didn’t have the right words to say. I didn’t have anything. I was useless. “They’re all gone,” I repeated, taking a step into the room. “I’m sorry, Dean.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time. When he did, his voice cracked. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to try, does it?” Dean put a hand on the window frame and lowered his head. Stepping over to him, I wrapped my arms around him from behind, resting my chin on his shoulder. His entire body shook. He covered one of my hands with his own and lowered his head. I didn’t know how long we stood there, but eventually he pulled away. “Will you stay in here tonight, Cas?”

“Of course, Dean.” I would do anything for him. We undressed and settled into his bed. Dean wrapped an arm around my waist and laid his head on my chest. It was that night that I found out what he had been thinking about all night. Something big had gone down in Detroit. Sam had said yes.

There would be no saving him. It was too late.

Dean hid his face against my chest, gripping my side as his hot breath mixed with even hotter tears. Quiet, choked sounds escaped his throat every so often and made my heart ache, and there was nothing I could do to make things better. All I could do was hold him until we both fell asleep and pretend nothing had happened the following morning. When the sun rose, Dean slipped out of bed and dressed. He addressed the camp and gave them the news about Sam. He showed no trace of remorse or sadness, just a hard determination as he said that, somehow, he was going to make everything right again. After that meeting, everything changed. Just because I got high to forget the bad didn’t mean it worked. It didn’t mean that I didn’t know what was going on or that I had lost intelligence. It didn’t mean that I didn’t see what Dean was becoming. He became ruthless. He stopped at nothing to protect us and to track down Lucifer. He killed Crotes and shot down members of our own camp if they showed signs of infection. Torture was an easy way of extracting information from demons he captured before he put an end to their misery. I disapproved of this and took every opportunity to voice my opinion, but he didn’t listen.

He burned bright, too white-hot to touch, as he tried to keep others an arm’s length away. He didn’t want to feel again. He didn’t want to lose again. But at night when he ducked into my cabin, when he curled in the fetal position by my side with his head in my lap, he let his guard down. It was the only time now I saw the Dean that I remembered, the Dean that felt so much and carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and believed he would never do right. That he would never be able to save everybody. _You can’t save everyone, Dean._ Sometimes I talked him into lying in bed with me. I still heard him pray some nights, heard him cry out to Zachariah or whatever angel might be left and listening. And when nothing happened, I held him as he gripped me tight. During these meetings, I knew better than to speak. I let him lie there, stroking his hair or rubbing his back, until he fell asleep. This was the Dean that I had fallen in love with, that I had left the garrison for, that I had watched over since his birth. Come morning, his guard would be up once more, and I would always feel a sense of loss.

The torture is how we ended up finding out where Lucifer was waiting. He was in a hot spot swarming with Crotes and demons. It’s how we had ended up here, Dean giving orders as we survey the area from our hiding position. He knows something that he isn’t telling us, and though I don’t voice it, I know it, too. There are no demons or Crotes milling about the area. It’s a trap. When he’s finished giving the orders, our eyes meet. I hold his gaze for a bit too long.

_Dean, I know you’re sending me and the others to die so you can face Lucifer alone. You won’t stop the apocalypse, though, because I_ know _you. I know you and you’ll still believe a part of your brother is in there, that you can somehow help him find his way back to you, that you can still stop this together even though you abandoned him for five years. I know that you would never be able to kill your own brother, even if it isn’t him anymore. I wish I had that same dedication sometimes to my own kin. But I don’t. I only have that dedication to you._

He seems to hear my thoughts and looks away briefly. When he looks back, he clears his voice. “You good with that, Cas?”

“You know I’ll go wherever you lead me, Polaris.” I manage a small, sad smile. This is goodbye. The others begin to the front of the building, and I steal a kiss before following without a backward glance.

Nothing is infinite. Not even loss.

You were my north star. You were supposed to lead me home. Even though it wasn’t what I expected, you led me here. You let me into your heart. And now, you’re leading us home.


End file.
